


Until Death Do Us Part

by Spadesinspades



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Car Accidents, Character Death, M/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spadesinspades/pseuds/Spadesinspades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Johnlock Challenges - Grab Bag + Graphic (because she is an amaaaazing graphics maker)</p><p>Prompt:  "God Sherlock, I thought you never cry, at least... not for real."</p><p>For Wintermindpalace (Tumblr)<br/>From Spadesinspades (AO3)  |  MCXI (Tumblr)</p><p>------<br/><i>“I don’t see why we should have to make such a big fuss of it.  It has everything to do with us and nothing to do with them.”</i></p><p>  <i>John fumed.  ”First of all, I’m not having his conversation with you.  Second of all, you are going into your room, having a shower, and coming out in a suit with a tie.”</i></p><p>  <i>“But-“</i></p><p>  <i>“NO.  NOW.”  John walked over to where Sherlock was sitting and stood angrily above him.  He pointed straight to the back of the flat and looked exceedingly unimpressed.  ”Today, of all days Sherlock.  Honestly.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Until Death Do Us Part

 

“Sherlock, are you going to get ready? It’s already half past.”

Sherlock lay on the couch in his blue dressing gown, fingers steepled over his lips. He let his head roll to the side to regard John.

“Hmm?”

“We have to be at the church in an hour and you’re not dressed.” John stood at the threshold of the kitchen, buttoning the cuff of his white dress shirt. His black slacks were neatly pressed and Sherlock could tell his shoes had been shined. He could smell the polish all the way from the couch.

“Why are you all dressed up?” Sherlock asked, shifting into a sitting position.

“You’re not actually serious.”

“I don’t see why we should have to make such a big fuss of it. It has everything to do with us and nothing to do with them.”

John fumed. ”First of all, I’m not having his conversation with you. Second of all, you are going into your room, having a shower, and coming out in a suit _with a tie_.”

“But-“

“NO. NOW.” John walked over to where Sherlock was sitting and stood angrily above him. He pointed straight to the back of the flat and looked exceedingly unimpressed. ”Today, of all days Sherlock. Honestly.”

Sherlock rose from the couch and sulked through the flat to his bedroom. A few minutes later, John could hear the spray of the shower in the next room. He smiled to himself. _Small victories_. He sat in his armchair and fiddled idly with the ring on his left hand while he waited for his fiance to emerge.

#

“Just, slow down alright?” John cautioned, his hand resting on Sherlock’s leg as they drove through the city. ”Greg is following behind us and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to have to ticket you on your wedding day.”

“Ten minutes ago you couldn’t say enough about how late we were going to be and now you want me to slow down?”

John clenched his teeth and started thinking about revising his vows to include the phrase: “in insolence and annoyance” to follow “in sickness and in health”. It should be enough that he’s just willing not to kill the other man, let alone marry him. They should give him a medal along with the ring. _For a great service to the community of London_. John laughed to himself.

“What? Why are you laughing?” Sherlock sped through a yellow light and John cringed.

“I’m just happy you lunatic,” John replied. ”Alright?”

Sherlock looked away from the road for a moment to regard John. ”Alright,” he replied. A smile crept on to his lips. He took one hand off the wheel to interlace his fingers with John’s and squeezed. He looked back at the road just as the next light changed from green to yellow. In a show of good faith, he put his foot on the brake and came to a less-than-gentle stop.

“There, better?” Sherlock asked.

Unfortunately, Lestrade wasn’t expecting the sudden change in Sherlock’s erratic driving behaviour and couldn’t stop his car in time. He slammed right into the back of them. Everything lurched forward as metal crumpled and glass shattered. As both vehicles skidded into the intersection, everything went black.

#

_Six Weeks Later_

Sherlock found himself seated in an uncomfortable pew in the front row of the church. The rows behind were mostly full and there were a surprising number of police present. John sat beside him, dressed sharply in his black suit, white shirt and grey tie. The same suit from the day of the accident, though now worn with a much different intent. Their thighs were touching, but Sherlock could barely feel it. His eyes were fixed on the scene in front of him.

“And now we’ll hear a few words from Sherlock Holmes, a dear friend of the departed.”

Sherlock scoffed as he rose from his seat. ’Dear friend’, hardly. It was an inadequate term to describe their relationship. But he supposed now was not really the time to correct terminology, now was it?

He looked over his shoulder and John smiled; a complicated mixture of support and concern. He was worried about what Sherlock would say. But John had seen the speech, so as long as Sherlock stuck to the script, they should be alright. _As long as he stuck to the script._

Sherlock took his place behind the podium and removed a folded sheet of paper from his inside breast pocket. He smoothed his suit jacket and thought about the argument he and John had the day of the wedding. They had been running late because Sherlock had taken his time getting ready. This whole thing wouldn’t have even happened if he had just listened to John. He wished he had remembered to wear a proper suit - _with a tie_ \- to this ceremony, as well. But John hadn’t reminded him and he was dreadful at thinking of these things on his own.

“I don’t normally struggle for words,” Sherlock began, unfolding his paper, “but this is a set of circumstances in which I never expected to find myself.”

Again, Sherlock looked to John. He nodded once, in support. _You can do this_ , he was saying, silently. _I’m here and you can do this._

“But how can I not struggle with words when looking for ones to adequately describe a great man. A man who put duty and friendship above all else. A man who, despite how difficult it is for me to admit, had a great deal of intelligence and ability.”

There were a few gentle laughs at this from the audience. Those who knew Sherlock, no doubt. He looked up from the page and spotted Molly a few rows back, a soft smile on her lips as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“He always stood by me, even when he shouldn’t have, and it will be a cold day in hell before I ever forget that. While his colleagues, friends or family often questioned his loyalty to me, he never once seemed to question it himself, which means more to me than I could ever hope to articulate to you today.”

Sherlock faltered for a moment, his voice cracking on the last word. John shifted in his seat, seeming as if he might almost vault off the pew at any moment to come to his assistance. Sherlock shook his head gently, a signal that meant _I’m fine, I can finish_.

“It was my wedding day,” he continued, “when the accident occurred. John was beside me in the passenger seat and Lest- Greg was following in the car behind us. It goes without saying that we didn’t make it to the church that day.”

There were sniffles from the crowd and someone was crying quietly in the back row.

“But here we are, in church again today. And perhaps I can still right one wrong.”

Sherlock stepped away from the podium and approached the casket which stood to the right of him. He slipped his hand into his trouser pocket and took out two rings. John rose from his seat and walked over to stand next to him. But only Sherlock could see him. Because to everyone else, he was laying peacefully in the coffin.

“Until death do us part,” Sherlock said, his voice a whisper.

He reached over and slid one wedding band onto John’s ring finger. His skin lacked the warmth and spark that Sherlock had become accustomed to when he was alive. Tears began to stream down Sherlock’s face, unbidden. He put the second ring on his own hand. A promise simultaneously kept and broken.

“God Sherlock, I thought you never cry, at least… not for real,” John said. He rested one ghostly hand over Sherlock’s, the contact never quite resolving. ”Don’t start for me.”

Sherlock didn’t bother responding, because despite his hallucinations, he knew that John Watson was lost to him forever. He fell to his knees and put his head in his hands.

“Until death do us part,” John echoed, his voice just a memory.


End file.
